Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  …But what would Mr. Stark say when presented with the evidence that Mia might still be alive, somehow?

  No, no. Peter couldn't entertain the possibility. Mia was dead. She couldn't have written this email.

  And yet… 'Karen, this email account, how new is it?'

  'Ozornoy-Seven-Nine-Nine was created six minutes before the message was sent.'

  Six minutes? A new account. If it was really Mia, why wouldn't she just use her regular email

  'Hey, what are you doing up here?' A voice shouted behind him, making Peter jump, dropping his phone.

  It tumbled fifty feet down to the sidewalk below. Peter could only watch helplessly, before whirling around to face the irate landlord of the apartment building. The man had just stepped out, and was shaking a fist at him. 'Get down from there, kid, before you hurt yourself!'

  Deciding it best to leave before the man chose to press trespassing charges, Peter pulled himself down onto the roof, and the landlord practically dragged him by his ear down the stairs inside, before tossing him out the front doors.

  It took Peter a minute to find his cellphone. It lied on the street, a starburst of broken plastic and shattered glass.

  'Aw, man,' Peter muttered, picking up what was left of the phone. Karen gave one last flicker of life before blinking out for the last time. Great. Now he'd have to ask Mr. Stark for a new one, and Peter just knew he was going to ask questions. But it wasn't the situation that occurred Peter was worried about — it was the email, which Tony Stark would surely see…Then again, maybe he could be the only one to help.

  Maybe with Tony Stark helping, Peter could get some answers on that weird email. Find out where it really came from, who made the account. If it was really Mia, back from the dead.

  Still, as Peter started making his way down the street, looking for a new photo spot, doubt weighed him down. He wanted to believe Mia was alive, but was it worth it? Peter couldn't keep getting his hopes up just to have his entire soul crushed all over again. The email from months ago had hurt too much — in those spare moments before watching that video, Peter had believed Mia was still out there. He couldn't handle going through that fall again.

  No, Mia was dead. He had to let her memory rest.

  Peter sighed to himself, stuffed his camera into his backpack, and started making his way down the alleyway.

  ...But who else would use Goose as a callsign?

  Peter came to a stop upon coming out to the other side, onto another wide street. He glanced to his right, and saw the ice cream place where he had his last meal with Mia.

  And that's when he knew. If their positions were switched, if it was Peter who died and Mia who got weird calls and emails, she'd look. She'd question everything. A closed-casket funeral wouldn't give her peace. It didn't give him peace.

  Mia would find him. She'd find the answers. She'd know for sure.

  So that was what Peter was going to do.

  He was going to find the truth.The gun fired.

  Flash of the hammer. Smoke. The bullet spinning, jumping from the muzzle, straight for my heart.

  But the bullet never reached me.

  A gust of wind hit me from the right. My hair flew up into my face, just as a bolt of blue light flashed in front of me.

  I blinked. Darkness. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three.

  That's how long it took to open my eyes again, but I couldn't act any faster — because it still felt like I was moving at the same speed a normal.

  It was the world slowing down.

  A hand on my arm, wrapping around me. That was also moving at normal speed, but once again, my body refused to react accordingly. I could only catch a glimpse of white hair and a blue jacket.

  I blinked again. Darkness.

  Eyes open. I now stood in the middle of the street. The Chekist was twenty feet away, firing his gun into thin air. The bullet sailed slowly, almost peacefully into the air. A blue-silver streak weaved its way around him and towards me.

  Another gust of wind.

  Pietro at my side.

  Finally, the world snapped back into motion. That's when the inertia and nausea really hit in and, unbalanced by my sudden relocation, I stumbled and nearly fell, dropping to one knee while the world spun around me. My stomach felt like it had just been yanked out of my body and put back upside down, and I started to dry heave a little, coughing and gagging.

  I managed to right myself in time to see Wanda — now standing in front of me, before the Chekist — light up her hands with bright red energy, and sling it at the Chekist with the gun.

  He barely had the time to let out a cry, never mind react to my sudden disappearance, before the two balls of pulsing energy slammed into chest and sent him flying back. His back broke the door behind him, and he disappeared into the darkness of the building behind him.

  'Code Red, hostile civilians, we need reinforcements. I repeat, we need reinforce—' the second Chekist grabbed his radio and started shouting at it, all the while staring in horror at Wanda and Pietro. One hand keeping the radio on, he didn't have time to pull up his gun before another gust of wind nearly knocked me over. In that split second, the Chekist was swiped by a streak that same, strange blue-silver energy — and the next second, the Chekist's holster was empty, leaving him grappling helplessly for his missing weapon.

  The Chekist, knocked back, reeled as though he'd been struck, although I hadn't seen anything but that ghostly streak surrounding him, before disappearing once more in a wisp.

  Pietro appeared beside me once again, a loud clatter at our feet. I looked down, shocked, to see the Chekist's gun now lying there. I stumbled back, startled, breath catching in my throat. So much action, so quickly. My mind could barely keep up.

  The old man and woman gasped and stumbled back, as the son scrambled to his feet and ran to them. He hugged them, shielding them as Wanda turned her head, eyes burning rubies, as she brought up her left hand, fingers clawed. I could only watch, in shocked silence, as Pietro seemed to slip back into that stream of energy, one second here, the next over there, delivering a punch I didn't see until after it struck the Chekist and sent him flying back.

  My head tilted back as I followed the Chekist's arc through the air, before he made his final landing on the hood of the car.

  He didn't get back up.

  I winced at the loud crunch of metal, partly impressed, but mostly horrified. It was as though he'd been hit with by a ballistic missile, not a teenage boy. I jumped when Pietro blinked back in front of me again, silver wisps trailing off his skin and dissipating like liquid smoke.

  Wanda turned to me, the red light fading from her eyes, worry replacing that mask of anger. 'Amelia? Amelia, are you okay?'

  I didn't realize my mouth was hanging open until I tried to find my voice, only opening and closing it helplessly. All thought had escaped me in that moment.

  Then I finally found the right words. 'Holy shit.'

  'We have to get leave,' Pietro then said, at the same time I blurted, 'What the hell was that?!'

  Both twins looked at me, alarmed. Wanda looked pale, while Pietro was flushed, panting slightly. His head kept switching around, scanning the street, eyes wide and alert. As if he hadn't heard me, he pointed to the family and said to Wanda, 'Take care of them, I'll her get her out of here.'

  'No, wait, what's going on?' I jumped back with my hands raised to ward him off. Pietro reached out towards me and I jabbed a finger at him, my breath shaky — I still felt dizzy from…whatever he did to me. 'Y-you can run — how can you run so fast?'

  Pietro paused, held out his arms. There was a bewildered smile on his face, almost smug. 'What? You did not see that coming?'

  'I — no!' I exclaimed, throwing up my arms, completely taken aback by how casual these two seemed to be about this. I mean, they just…did that. What the hell?

  'Pietro!' Wanda snapped just as Pietro opened his mouth to reply. 'Stop fooling around! Y
ou are scaring her; you know she doesn't remember!'

  'W-wait, so you're fast,' I said, swaying slightly on my feet as I pointed from Pietro to Wanda. 'And you have…magic?'

  'No, no, is not so simple,' Wanda grimaced, shaking her head and wringing her hands at me. Hands that launched a man through a door without ever having to touch him. 'It is hard to explain but…we were, um, we were always like this.'

  'Always like that?' I said, bewildered. Was she saying what I thought she was saying? 'That you're, what, you were born this way?'

  Wanda and Pietro exchanged looks, before shrugging and turning back to me with synchronized nods. I just stared at them, gaping. No way. There was no way. 'W-wait, people aren't just — they aren't just born with powers! I mean, that's what it is, isn't it? You don't have that unless you're a—'

  I cut myself off as the word came to me, so startled by it that I forgot what I was saying. Pietro and Wanda leaned towards me, expecting me to finish that sentence, but before I could find the words to speak again, I was suddenly interrupted.

  'What are you?' a new voice said, and we all turned out heads to look at the family, surprised to see they were still there. It was the old woman who spoke, her hand trembling as she pointed between the twins. Then, louder, angrier, she demanded, 'What are you?!'

  'Freaks!' the old man hissed, making the twins flinch, and the old couple dissolved into ravings of which the son could not soothe. He clutched them both to his chest, pale-faced as he glanced back at the ruined stoop, at the absolutely shattered door. He turned back to Wanda, swallowing at her narrowed gaze.

  The man's voice was a little shaky as he said, 'Go, all three of you. We promise, we won't tell anyone what happened here. And…' he paused, bit his lip, then met our eyes individually. 'Thank you.'

  I blinked, surprised. I hadn't expected the gratitude, which sounded sincere by all accounts, but before I could say anything in return, a screech of tires interrupted me. We all spun around to stare as a brown Jeep came careening around the corner, engine roaring. On the side a red star was painted, along with the Sokovian crest. The men inside were dressed in brown uniforms, holding up their guns pointed to the sky as the jeep skidded to a stop at the street corner.

  Chekists, at least half a dozen of them, not even waiting for solid ground before leaping out and charging straight for us. Any passerby left who had stayed to watch the first two Chekists get pounded were now running for their lives as the first few bullets shot past our shoulders.

  'Oh no,' the old woman wailed, hands flying to her face in despair. 'More of them!'

  As more bullets fired, everyone ran and ducked for cover. The family ran back inside the ruined stoop of their house, but were unable to go further as the wreckage had blocked any way in the house. Wanda ducked, pressing her back against the wall of the building. At the same time, I grabbed Pietro still standing next to me, and without thinking threw the both of us behind the cover of a car.

  The act was instinct, this thoughtless motive to hide. Normally, my mind would've blanked and I would've just stood in front of their guns like a deer in headlights, but instead I was already thinking of possible exits. There was an alleyway near Wanda, and there could be a way through the apartment if we found a way to clear the fallen beams — not any way that would be fast enough for us, though.

  As it was, I didn't have the time to come up with a new plan, as footsteps came thundering to a halt just outside my line of sight. Pietro, crouched next to me, looked ready to jump out and attack them, but I pressed a hand to his chest. Peeking out past the bumper of the car, I took stock of the Chekists coming to circle around the street, cutting off any other escape. They had their guns raised, these large assault rifles that just seemed like overkill now, but nonetheless intimidating as I found my options dwindling by the second.

  'Surrender yourselves!' was the first warning called out to us, a Chekist standing in the middle with a fancier hat than the rest. The commanding officer, perhaps? 'If you consider yourselves true Soviets, then surrender yourselves now, without a fight! We promise mercy upon those who are loyal to the State!'

  Well, that wasn't going to happen, Soviet citizen or not. I glanced behind me, at the family trembling, white-faced, in the doorway. They looked ready to give themselves up right then and there; as opposed to Wanda and Pietro, who only appeared to get angrier at the officer's promise. Pietro even hissed, 'Do not trust him, they do not wish our safety any more than they wish for any true citizen. They only want to protect the State.'

  'Thanks for the political commentary,' I muttered under my breath, brow furrowing as I tried to parse through all of this. The twins abilities, the Chekists, this weird Soviet thing going on that honestly was just as scary as everything else. 'You think you can get us all out of here?'

  'Only one at a time,' Pietro said, rolling one shoulder and wincing. I wondered if he hurt himself, punching that Chekist so hard. I could see the new soldiers eyeing the Chekist on the roof of the nearby car with some wariness. Did they have any idea what they were dealing with? 'They will attack before I have time to reach everyone.'

  I huffed, blowing hair out of my face, my heart sinking with frustration and dread. Great. How the hell were we going to get out of this one? Could we even fight this many guys? I couldn't see a way out of this that involved violence without getting hurt.

  Needless to say, I was terrified of getting hurt. I didn't want to be reminded of what a bullet felt like going through my body.

  'I will only say this one more time!' the Chekist officer called out. 'Surrender yourselves now, or face the will of the State as fugitives of the law! You have ten seconds! Nine!'

  My heart skipped a beat as he started counting down. I shifted forward on my knees, nearly getting up from my crouch in an attempt to move, to do something, before everyone here died. But Pietro's hand landed on my shoulder. 'Amelia, no.'

  'No?' I hissed, snapping my head around to stare at him. 'What else are we going to do? They've got guns, numbers. You said so yourself, we can't get out of here unscathed. Unless you got a better plan you'd like to share, we don't have a lot of choice.'

  Pietro met my eyes, biting his lip as he wavered. He was panting, perhaps still out of breath, or maybe starting to panic. He threw a worried glance at Wanda, who looked as equally bereft and helpless. Then Pietro's shoulders drooped and he faced me again. 'I-I do not know. I do not know what to do. But we cannot do this. Not Wanda. I will not let them take my sister. Not again.'

  'Four!'

  And just like that, an idea seemed to have rooted itself in Pietro's mind. I saw it, saw his eyes lit up, his face turning grim with a sudden decision firmly made. He pressed his hands to the ground, looked ready to rise. 'I will go. Distract them. Keep Wanda safe for me.'

  'No!' Now it was me stopping him, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking Pietro down before he could do something just as stupid. I realized Pietro was right in one regard: Freedom, family, at any cost. I had no idea what was going to happen next, but in that moment, I knew: 'None of us are going.'

  'Two!'

  'Then what?' Pietro hissed.

  I paused, swallowing. 'I —'

  'One!' The officer called, and I knew it was too late.

  Hunching up my shoulders, I winced, preparing for the onslaught when the Chekist declared, 'You give us no choice, then. Men, open —'

  'Halt!'

  My mind, suddenly racing in what felt like the second before my death, came back to the present as a new voice rang through the air. Female, loud, and just as commanding as the Chekist officer. Startled, everyone looked around — Pietro and I peeking up from the car, to the side of the street opposite of the Chekists, in which a group of six black-clad men and women had just walked up from.

  The same people who'd caught me and Wanda in the market.

  The agents of the Crucible.

  What? I could barely believe it. They're here? They found us?

&nb
sp; The woman who spoke was the same redhead I saw last time. Her face was unreadable as she stepped forward from the group to address the Chekist officer, who faced them with a bewildered and angry look. 'Who goes there? This is official State business you are intruding upon! Leave now!'

  'This business is ours,' the redheaded woman replied, pulling something out of her pocket and presenting it to the officer. A badge, too far away to read. 'I am Comrade Brandt, and we are the Komitet of the Chairman, and the three adolescents you've caught belong to us.'